


FREE

by Sweetgirl2019



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Language, M/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21786664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetgirl2019/pseuds/Sweetgirl2019
Summary: The prison goodbye I wanted to see and the reunion we'll hopefully get this weekend :)
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 124





	FREE

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one-shot. I really love these two.

********

_“I wanna be with you!”_

The words kept repeating in a loop in Mickey’s head, over and over from the moment he had heard them. Three days had passed since then and suddenly, the hours had drawn to a close and their time together was almost at an end. Their last night together, the moment the doors had closed and the lights had been dimmed, Ian had tried to get close. He had tried pulling Mickey against him, to kiss him and hold him, make love in the darkness. But Mickey’s walls had risen high again, guarding himself from the eventual pain. His heart had ached the way it had so many times before; when Ian had left after the wedding, when Ian had broken up with him outside the Gallagher steps. When _Mexico_ had happened.

Knowing they’d be separated for two years, with Ian walking to freedom and Mickey being left behind like always, the thought of saying goodbye hurt more than he could bear. No matter how many times Ian had repeated the same words in those three days leading up to that moment, that he would wait for Mickey on the outside, that he would never leave him again, Mickey had been doubtful and afraid. He wanted to believe the words with everything inside him, to have that hope of a future with the freckled ginger he loved more than anything. But too many times, he’d been burnt in the past. Too many times, he’d been left broken.

With his back turned towards the cell door, Mickey gripped the edge of the blanket tighter in his hands. They were in their own beds, the space between them heavy and riddled with sadness. But as much as he wanted to open himself to the feeling of Ian a final time, his mind wouldn’t let him be the one to take that step. In the light of day, he could fake the bravado he put out for the rest of the world. He could yell and smirk and talk shit, pretend that none of it mattered, that everything was fine, that he was okay. But the darkness was different. He could lie there on his own, plagued by thoughts of separation as the night surrounded him. He could let his heart bleed with no one there to witness.

The sudden feel of arms encircling him from behind made Mickey jump. He took a breath and started turning over, desperate to keep his cool façade in place but the hold around him was insistent. One arm had slid under his neck, hand lacing with his own, while another wrapped tight around his stomach, keeping him pinned on his side.

“The fuck you doing?” Mickey finally asked.

“I love you,” was all Ian said.

Closing his eyes, Mickey willed his tears to stay hidden. He couldn’t let himself be vulnerable, not in that moment. But Ian destroyed all his walls like he always did, leaning in to press a kiss to Mickey’s throat, his shoulder, the spot behind his ears.

“I love you,” Ian repeated.

Before Mickey could get a single word in, Ian pulled his head backwards and silenced him with a kiss. The press of lips against one another was hard and demanding. The moment the dam inside Mickey finally broke, his mouth slipped open and Ian plunged in. His tongue was relentless, tasting the sweetness of Mickey’s mouth, savoring every inch of the warmth. When Ian finally leaned away, their eyes meeting in the darkness and their breathing labored and rough, an understanding developed between them. The moment felt important, significant in so many ways, deserving of something deeper than a hurried fuck between the sheets. It needed more than the impersonal feeling of Ian pressed to Mickey’s back as he moved in and out. It needed intimacy. It needed trust.

With a small nod, Mickey slowly rolled onto his back and the simple move made the love in Ian’s eyes expand, a glistening of tears that threatened to fall at any moment. But Mickey couldn’t bring himself to feel those tears fall against his skin. Lifting his hands, he buried his fingers in Ian’s hair, gripping the strands and pulling him in. The moment their lips touched, it felt like everything inside Mickey had erupted. For those few heart-stopping minutes, the walls around his heart, all of his fears and doubts, were silenced. Opening his legs, flat on his back, was his way of saying the words his mouth couldn’t communicate.

_I love you. I trust you_.

Ian ran a hand across his eyes to wipe the wetness away and lifted on an elbow to pull something from his own bed. When he slid back down, his body covering Mickey’s, the warmth returned with him. His kisses were sweet, gentle against Mickey’s skin. They were running out of time, daylight only hours away, but they wanted to savor the moment.

When Mickey felt his shorts dragged down his legs and a finger pushed inside him, he couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips. The smell was no longer there with Ian using proper lube for the first time in prison. Behind locked doors, all that made sense was that Ian had made a deal or granted a favor to receive it, all so their last moments together could be perfect. All without knowing if Mickey would welcome him into his bed.

The pain that had occupied his heart for so many nights reared its ugly head again but Mickey forced it aside when Ian pushed in. Their breathing was rough, hands gripping one another, afraid to let go, afraid of what would happen when they did. When Ian reached for his legs, Mickey moved without hesitation. He wrapped himself around the toned waist and Ian made a sound that was borderline animalistic, a deep growl of approval that only existed between them. The sound made Mickey’s insides ignite as he gave himself over to the moment. Their lips never separated, breathing forgotten as they clung to one another. In and out, in and out, their bodies rocked above the mattress, the sheets scrunching beneath them. Hearts pressed close, they beat together as one, the sound loud in the silence around them.

When the feeling began to coil deep inside, Mickey tilted his head back and separated his mouth to get a hold over his emotions. The feelings were too deep, too raw between them but Ian dragged him back, letting their lips find each other, a slide of his tongue to open Mickey’s mouth like always.

“I love you,” Ian whispered, hands moving low to grip Mickey’s thighs as he pushed in to the deepest.

Mickey fell off the edge without warning, the suddenness off his orgasm sending Ian to follow after him. Felling a wetness in his eyes, the tears he had tried so hard to hide away, Mickey felt a shake move through him. Ian lifted on his elbows and peered down, body flushed, hair a disheveled mess, and the moment he saw the tears, his gaze tilted to sadness.

“Come here,” Ian whispered, repeating the words that had taken a new meaning between them.

He pulled out, gentle in his movements, and fell onto his side, pulling Mickey in his arms, face to face. They clung to one another as their breathing calmed, legs tangling above the sheets. If Mickey had given himself a moment to let his walls back in, he would have turned on his side and had Ian spoon him from behind but those walls were now obliterated. He was broken and healed, torn apart and afraid, completely dismantled by the love he felt for the other man.

“Do you believe me when I say I’ll wait for you?”

In an instant, the orgasmic fog of happiness had faded. The walls had returned, along with it all of his hesitation. Lifting himself up from the safety of Ian’s arms, Mickey managed a shrug as he turned to his other side, shutting the world out and the ginger along with it. He could feel the sadness in the air and the weight of Ian’s gaze on him. When the silence stretched for too long, Mickey told himself it was better that way.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Ian suddenly said, arm sliding around Mickey’s waist again. “I’ll prove it to you, Mick.”

Another kiss was pressed against his shoulder, another to his throat and ear. The arms around him tightened as Ian leaned down and breathed him in. His scent had always been soothing to Ian in ways he could never understand. When Ian’s breathing eventually evened, Mickey raised his hand and laced their fingers together beneath the blanket. Insomnia became his greatest friend.

  
********  
  


The morning was quiet, the heaviness of separation lingering in the air. They moved around one another, doing their usual business, but neither could bring themselves to communicate. When the guards appeared outside, pounding on the door without care, Ian finally looked over, eyes shining and wet. Mickey could have let himself be cold and distant, indifferent to their looming separation. But he loved Ian so completely and that single truth trumped the rest. The ginger freckled boy he had fallen in love with a decade ago had stolen his heart and never returned it.

Instead of pulling away like his mind demanded, Mickey gave into his heart and opened his arms, smiling when Ian fell against him in an instant. Their hands roamed across each other’s bodies, tracing the same patterns over and over, desperate to remember that moment. When their lips met for the final time, nothing else mattered but them. The guards, the nearby prisoners, their doubts and fears, nothing mattered but the way they held each other, the way they kissed, the silent promises that they made.

“Enough with the love fest! Move it, Gallagher!” one of the guards shouted.

Breaking their lips free, they held each other one last time, too tight yet not tight enough.

“I love you. I’ll wait for you. I promise,” Ian whispered, the words a vow of commitment that Mickey ached to believe.

With a soft kiss to Mickey’s cheek, Ian tore himself away and walked out of the cell, into the freedom that was waiting for him. Drifting backwards to his own mattress, Mickey slowly lowered himself down, hands gripping the sheets they had slept in hours ago. As the rest of the prison began to wake, he tilted his head back against the wall and let his eyes drift shut. He was happy that Ian was free and going home to be with his family but his heart couldn’t help feeling like he was being left behind. Again.

  
********  
  


Hours turned to days and days turned to weeks. Ian visited on Thursdays and they spoke on the phone every morning but they kept their conversations light, undemanding. Mickey would listen as Ian went on about the new baby and give details on the rest of the Gallagher clan. He talked about how disappointed he had been, going home to an empty house, as if no one had even missed him. They had thrown him a party that night and although it had made him smile, the initial hurt refused to leave.

“ _I love them. I always will. I love Lip and Freddie, especially. But you’re my family, Mick. You.”_

The words had slipped out between the rest and a moment of silence had followed, the meaning not lost on either before Ian had changed the subject. They spoke about the new parole officer Ian was forced to work with, the job she had pushed on him, the scam she was initiating to make money. Mickey had told him to be careful, to do whatever was needed to make sure he would never again see the inside of that prison.

_“I found one of your shirts. I sleep with it every night. It still smells like you.”_

The words had been too hard to hear. Mickey got into a fight in the courtyard that same day, a needless brawl with another prisoner who had never looked at him the wrong way. He felt raw, shaken to his core, heartbroken. He needed an outlet to work through his feelings and prison gave so little options. He either had to fuck it out of his system or fight his way through the overwhelming emotions. As much as the first option would have been easier, with so many prisoners giving Mickey the eye now that his boyfriend was no longer there, he could never bring himself to touch another man, not anymore, not after Ian’s words of commitment. As much as the doubts were still there, his heart yearned to believe them against all other survival instincts. Fighting was the only choice he had.

After three days in solitary, he was on his way towards general population when a guard steered him to the Warden’s office instead. Sitting inside the spacious room, he tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair as he waited. The moment the door burst open and the Warden walked in, the greeting smile gave Mickey pause.

“Mr. Milkovich,” the older man began as he sat behind his desk. “Your minor courtyard infraction from the other day and that odd stabbing of Chester a few weeks back aside, you have for the most part been a model prisoner.”

“Is there a ‘but’ coming?” Mickey asked, sitting up straight.

“No buts,” the Warden chuckled. “You are very different from your Father, I must say. In the beginning, especially with the crime you were arrested for, I thought you would be a chip off the same block as Terry. Cruel and violent, no regard for order, for command. But you surprised me, Mr. Milkovich. You really did.”

Mickey swallowed hard against the sudden thickness in his throat and stayed silent.

“With the overcrowding issue that we have been facing for several years, the parole board took a look at your file when you were in solitary. Granted, the fact that you had gotten into an altercation and were put in lockdown for three days gave them a moment’s pause but that pit against your problem free tenure within these walls was not enough to change their minds.”

“The hell are you saying, Warden?” Mickey asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m saying that you’ve been granted early parole, Mr. Milkovich.”

“The fuck?” Mickey blurted. “I had another two years, fucking eighteen months minimum.”

“Don’t shoot a gift horse in the mouth, son,” the Warden said with a tired smile. “You don’t even have to go before the parole board. You’re free to go as of today.”

Mickey stared down at the yellow jumper that had felt like a second skin for the past two years. His gaze slowly lifted, locking with the Warden’s as he slid to the front of his seat. “You serious?”

“Yes, son, I’m serious,” the older man replied. “Many Wardens believe in breaking the inmates down, using brutality and unkindness to rein the prisoners in. Some, I agree, deserve those punishments. Murderers, rapists, child molesters are just the absolute worst of humanity. But others can be rehabilitated. Their anger can be healed and that’s the type of Warden I hope I’ll always be regarded as. I believe in second chances, Mr. Milkovich, and this right here is yours.”

“Fuck,” Mickey whispered, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really letting me go?”

“Yes, the State is letting you go,” the Warden nodded. “I read your file when you first came here. In and out of juvie, arrested at eighteen, sent to Federal lockup, escaped prison, fled to Mexico and then turned yourself in to the FBI, gave over evidence against a Mexican Cartel and requested to be transferred to this prison. All of that would paint you in a certain light but when you add in the struggles of your childhood, being raised by the type of man I know Terry to be, there is no doubt that your life must have been difficult.”

Mickey looked away but the Warden pressed on despite the break in contact.

“Very few men leave these walls where I believe that they will make it on the outside. So many of them, no matter how hard we try to rehabilitate, they end up back here. You’re one of those few that I believe will walk out those gates and never come back.”

Taking a deep breath, Mickey slowly rose to his feet. He reached out and shook the Warden’s hand when it was offered, giving another nod in thanks before following the guard back to his cell. Everything else moved in slow motion. Saying goodbye to the few friends he had made, he let the guards lead him towards processing. Changing into the street clothes he had entered with, a pair of blue jeans, a grey long sleeve and a beige vest, he signed out where they told him, put his old wallet in his pocket and walked towards the gates. When he stepped outside into freedom for the first time in over two years, he glanced up towards the sun and let the rays shine over him. His skin was warm, the smell of prison washing away as he looked back and raised a finger out of habit.

A single bus sat waiting down the road, giving him and the other prisoners released a free ride back into town. He had nine dollars to his name, ratty old bills wedged inside his wallet but none of that mattered in the moment. His foot tapped against the seat in front of him, anxious and excited, nervous to get to the house where the only person that mattered, existed. When the bus made a turn in the opposite direction, he sprang from his seat and rushed down the aisle.

“Yo, let me out here.”

“This ain’t a stop, Princess. Sit your ass back down,” the driver grumbled.

Seeing the street get further and further away, Mickey reached for the handle to open the doors. The driver cursed and made a grab for his arm but he leapt from the bus in motion, tumbling down to the harsh pavement. His cheek and temple scratched on the rough ground and he felt the start of a bruise against his skin but all of that blurred in an instant. Forcing himself to his feet, he ignored the looks from the strangers around him and started running as fast as his legs could carry. Weaving in and out of traffic, he rushed towards the Gallagher house, remembering one of the worst days of his life as he ran down the street with the same determination. But things were different this time. His heart wasn’t heavy like before. All Mickey saw was a future that was waiting for him.

He knew the time of day meant Ian was still at home, the scam he was forced into not starting for another few hours. When he finally reached the fence around the house, he could hear the yelling from downstairs, voices that sounded like Lip and Debbie with Carl laughing in the background at their antics. Not wanting to waste any time with the rest of the family, he moved to the side of the house and saw the bedroom window open. Acting on instinct, he grabbed the drainage pipe and began to climb. It was the South Side of Chicago. Even if anyone caught him climbing the wall of a house, no one would bother looking twice at his movements. Crashing his way through the window moments later, he heard a startled shout as he fell over the mattress. The pain in his head was starting to surface as Mickey laid there but all he could do was laugh at his own actions.

“Mickey?” Ian said, voice thick with surprise as he stood across the room, chest bare from clothing. “What are you doing here?”

Lifting himself off the bed, Mickey stood there panting. A smile curved Ian’s lips, his gaze shining the way it had two years ago, when he’d first laid eyes on Mickey in the prison.

“I’m free,” was all Mickey could say.

The smile grew even wider as Ian licked his lips. “Come here.”

As Mickey quickly closed the space between them, his love for Ian shook him to his core. It was raw and deep, what they felt for each other, and so incredibly real. The moment their lips touched, Ian’s grip on his neck was harsh, his tongue forcing its way into Mickey’s mouth, staking his claim. The electric heat between them erupted like it always did, hands reaching for belts, tugging each other’s clothes out of the way. Standing against each other bare, bodies pressing close, hands roaming across every inch of skin, their lips found each other without fail.

Spinning them around, Ian pushed Mickey up against the wall, the bed too far a walk in that moment. He lifted Mickey’s leg, wrapping it around his waist, remembering the lube at the last second before he thrusted in. The pain from the suddenness of the breach was throbbing but it was a pain that Mickey needed. He felt Ian’s arms wrap around him, kissing his throat in apology, keeping his body still until Mickey had adjusted. Smiling at the gentleness despite the volcano boiling under their surface, Mickey tilted his head and gave a nod in silence.

Ian’s entire body shook as he held Mickey’s leg tighter around his own waist, pushing out before he drove back in. His movements were erratic, rocking their bodies together back and forth, pinning Mickey hard against the wall. The uneven thrusts made Mickey grip his lover even tighter. His lover, his partner, his soulmate, his best friend.

“Mick,” Ian stuttered as he trailed his lips downwards. “Fuck, I love you. I love you.”

He repeated the words over and over, each with a gentle kiss and all Mickey felt was freedom. The freedom of being outside the prison walls, the freedom of being with the man he loved, to let himself feel everything at once. Nothing could break that moment, not even Debbie’s shrill scream as she cursed and slammed the door from the hallway.

Raising his hands, Mickey reached out to hold Ian’s face, fingers tender in their touch, a vivid contrast to the rough movement of their bodies. Their eyes locked together, mouths inches apart as they pushed each other towards the orgasmic feeling they desperately needed. Three more thrusts and Mickey yanked Ian’s face forward to capture his lips in a crushing kiss. A touch of tongue and they both fell over in an instant.

Slowly lowering Mickey’s leg back to the ground, Ian slipped out as gently as he could before their arms wrapped around each others’ bodies. They held on for several seconds, allowing their irregular heartbeats to soothe, for their breathing to grow even.

“Love you too, Gallagher.”

The smile he felt against his skin made all the pain of the past twenty-three days of separation worth it. They were together, no longer afraid or looking over their shoulders. They were free.

When the heat inside them had finally calmed, a laughter took over, one Mickey hadn’t truly felt in years. Ian pulled him away from the wall and moved him backwards to the small bed, one they had shared together a lifetime ago. They were still the same people and yet so much had changed.

Feeling his head hit the pillow, Mickey let his eyes drift shut as Ian’s body covered his. The urgency was gone, the itch had been satiated. They could take their time and explore each other like they use to, in ways that not even their prison cell had allowed. With his eyes still closed, Mickey felt a smile curve his own lips when Ian settled between his legs. A shallow thrust and Ian was back inside the warmth, bodies moving together, slow and deep, in and out.

“Can I fucking marry you now?” Ian blurted, trailing his mouth down Mickey’s chest and back up to his throat where he bit the skin between his teeth, leaving his mark and staking his claim.

Later on, Mickey would freak out when the proposal would actually sink in. They would argue and push each other away until that intense need and love for each other would draw them back in like magnets. They would have a true conversation, the first of many, before going to the Courthouse with Ian’s family there to witness. They would make all the vows their hearts demanded, promises they had been too afraid to make when they were kids.

But in that moment, with Ian inside him, bodies flush against the same mattress that held so many shared memories, all Mickey could do was say yes.


End file.
